


Heartbeat

by wolfzaa



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, POV Multiple, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8535934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfzaa/pseuds/wolfzaa
Summary: The first time Piers met him, he was like a legend. Even though the living legend was only a human, Chris was still Chris who made his heart skip a beat. Always.





	1. Piers Nivans

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is cross-posted on [fanfiction.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9638115/1/Heartbeat) since 2013.
> 
> Also, this is a one-shot with two POV. First chapter will focus on Piers, then the second will be on Chirs' POV in the exact same situation.

 

 

Piers Nivans didn't intend to curse out loud, but he couldn't stop himself when he saw _his_ bullet missed the target.

Other soldiers might say that last shot was the best they had ever seen, but unfortunately, Piers didn't feel the same. About a hundred metres far from where he stood, a bold concrete block -- 250 mm. wide, strong enough to serve as a bunker in any war in the world -- broke into pieces. Yes, it broke, but that was because of the power of the Anti-Material rifle he used, not because of how good he was as a sniper. Piers realized that he missed the middle of the block which he aimed for. He was satisfied in a name of a good soldier, but not in a name of "the man who never missed the target"

Piers reloaded the bullets and took the aim again. Somehow, the mistake he saw through the sniper lens pissed him off. The soldier put the gun down with a frown on his face. He should admit that he was a perfectionist, that mistake was such a burden that he wanted to erase it away. Right, he had to aim for another shoot to prove that he wouldn't miss the target again.

His hands were trembling, however. Had he practiced too long? The Anti-Material rifle wasn't made for a stand-up-shooting to begin with.

Suddenly, a large hand took a firm grip on his shoulder. Piers stopped his index finger from pulling the trigger just in time. He rested an earmuff on his neck while turning his head to see who was interrupting him. Blinking, a strong-built man he wasn't sure if he had seen before was standing right next to him. He was at least ten years older than Piers, for sure. His tanned skin seemed rough just like the other soldiers. His hair was short and dark. Then his eyes -- oh God -- those sharp eyes were shining in the most gentle way Piers never expected from a man in the army.

Yet, that strong hand made him feel so fragile. It was the first time Piers thought that he might be too skinny for a war out there.

"Is there anything I could do for you, sir?"

Piers asked politely but he couldn't stop his eyebrow to furrow even more. The man released his shoulder then stepped back, waving hand in the air and gave him a genuine smile.

"It's nothing. Sorry for disturbing you," he answered, "Just take another shot, you're good at it."

Piers blinked again. He glanced around without moving his head to make sure that there were just the two of them. Nobody was around. Then why and who…?

Oh, forget it. He didn't want to meddle with someone else's business to begin with, he thought while covering his ears with an earmuff and picked his gun up to the position again.

Two bullets screamed through the air; two concretes scattered into pieces. Somehow, his hands stopped shaking.

" **Piers Nivans!"**

Suddenly, a low-deep voice went right through his ears from the behind, sharp enough for Piers to startled like hell. He faced the other man then saluted promptly before he had thought of anything.

The man grinned.

"Not bad."

"Uh… yes, sir?" Then he saw that gentle sight in those sharp eyes again. Why did a guy in the army would throw a gentle look for another soldier? Come on, he wasn't a kid anymore. "Well… urm… is there anything I can help, sir?"

Another gentle laughter came as an answer. Piers started to feel like a goddamn brat who didn't know anything about the world. What was happening? Did that guy hint something he missed? Okay, he was sure that this guy right in front of him was a high rank. He got a voice those high ranks had; the voice that sent shivers down his spine, then straight right to his arm in order to swing up as a salutation.

The next words seemed softer as the officer asked, "So you are Piers Nivans, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long have you used that rifle?"

"Urm… It's been a while, sir."

There was a sparkle in the older guy's eyes as if he was so satisfied with the answer. Piers was confused. What exactly was the point of this conversation again?

"You're good."

Piers wasn't sure how he should respond.

"I know this is not a proper thing to ask, but excuse me," without realizing it, he frowned again, "How did you know me, sir?"

"I've been watching you for a while. I haven't introduced myself, huh?" Oh my, another grin. "I'm Chris Redfield, from the B.S.A.A."

Piers almost forgot how to breathe at that second -- right -- he knew he had saw this face somewhere before. The legendary Chris Redfield.

"Do you have any interest to join my team, Nivans?"

And Piers' heart skipped a beat for the first time in his life.

 

* * *

 

 

Chris Redfield was a legend since he took Albert Wesker down. The government didn't want people to know about any zombie things but sure the military knew. The rumour spread quickly through every soldier even they had nothing to do with bioterrorism. The most important part was that right now, he was actually work in the B.S.A.A., under the legend he always looked up for since he joined the military field.

Yet, legend was just a legend.

Some weeks passed, Piers had learnt how his new captain truly was. The living legend was only an ordinary man just like himself. Chris wasn't a hero from the movies or any great man from the fairy tales. Sure he could pissed off, get angry, and being tired as hell; especially after an argument with others high ranks and Command.

And there was something called "paperwork".

Piers tried his best to keep the professional look on his face while entering the officer's room.

"What the hell---" Chris, sitting behind the desk full of mountains of papers, seemed to be shocked when he saw another lot of paperwork in Piers' arms. He looked like nothing better than some drained plants in a desert. "C'mon, Nivans. You're kidding me?"

"No, sir. Command asked me to send you these reports. They need them before dusk."

Chris groaned in protest, "I supposed that a cup of coffee isn't inhibited here, right?"

Piers placed all new reports on the desk, readjusted the other messed up paperwork.

"Not until this one is finished, sir."

"Just one cigarette won't---"

"After these are done, sir."

So that was the final answer. Piers stood back a bit, knowing sighing in front of his officer was not appropriate but he still wanted to do once in a lifetime. His shoulders were stiffed and his back felt nothing but pain. Not because of the long time he stood for sure, the fact was, he bared too much stress on it. How the hell he wouldn't, tough?

Chris Redfield had broken his role model's perfect image just because of paperwork.

On the field, the captain was certainly God. Piers respected him with all his heart, maybe his life either. If Chris could throw anything to fight for the world, he also could do the same. Everybody following his back and in his watch would never be left behind, as important as one of his family. Despite everything Chris did on the field, it had nothing to do with the other kind of work.

Not only Chris who was bored of paperwork, Piers also was. What made him differ from his captain was the sniper couldn't pretend that the work was already finished while it wasn't. He never thought of being this close to his idol, but he never thought that he had to _observe_ Chris like he was five either.

Well, no one told him to attend this duty in the first place, tough.

"Nivans."

Chris' voice pulled him out of his thought, "Yes, sir?"

"Get some rest. You don't have to stand there and wait for me. I'm not going anywhere."

"It's alright, sir," Piers responded promptly, knowing that his captain couldn't be trusted in a time like this, "I have to send Command those reports for you after all."

Piers didn't change his facial expression a bit and it worked. Chris might roll his eyes but he stopped whining. Kept his boredom deep inside, Piers stood quietly waiting for his captain. He knew that Chris needed a few minutes to concentrate. The sniper waited until he was sure Chris was all good before stepping back, leaving the room as quiet as he could.

The soldier dragged himself to a coffee corner at the end of the corridor. Officers here usually almost died from lack of caffeine, everyday and every night during work time. Right now, his captain was one of them, dying beneath those papers. Nicotine would help either but cigarette smoke made him thirsty, so a cup of coffee was a better choice.

Two tablespoons of coffee powder, one cube of sugar.

There was one click sound from a spoon touching a brim of a mug after he let it free. Black liquid was stirring in a small whirl, then gradually became still as the soldier walked back. Silently, he entered the room, right straight to the desk full of papers.

Chris looked up with a surprise when the coffee cup was put in front of him. Piers' heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. Chris looked at him like he was some kind of oasis in the middle of Sahara desert.

Gosh. He didn't want his heart to beat this fast right now. He had to stay calm so he could let it squeezed so hard in the field, somewhere his captain had every right to be perfect, to be a God whom everybody could fell for his coolness. It wasn't supposed to beat like he had run a hundred miles just because of his captain's gestures in such an ordinary situation.

Yet, he was still Chris Redfield. No matter how good or bad he was, Chris was always the same Chris who made him…

"Thanks, Piers."

A husky voice. Not even gentle or sweet but full of sincerity. Piers wanted to clench his left chest so bad to decrease his heartbeat rate. He almost forgot how to breathe when his first name had slipped out those chapped lips, as if he was always called by that.

Piers gave him a nod instead of a fine answer. Command would look down for him or not, he had to quit this duty as soon as he could. What excuse should he use? Claiming that his heart couldn't bare this anymore?

Crap. His heartbeat was still racing.

Goddamn heart.


	2. Chris Redfield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it's time to switch to Chris' POV. ;)

Chris Redfield was impressed with that shot.

He was just finished his meeting with some high ranks about some random things, more importantly, this military field was full of fresh bloods. The B.S.A.A. needed those fresh bloods, the one who could support the team's weak point such as another explosive expert or a good sniper. Before he left, the other officers gave him some document files with many top rank soldiers they had. Knowing that Chris preferred observing around than sitting behind the desk with a profile to read, they also told him there was something around here that was worth to take a look.

It really was. A big one.

Chris looked across an outside shooting field while searching through the files he got. There was a man, a boy, standing alone with a gun in his hands. What a heavy gun that boy used, especially when he was standing up like that. The Anti-Material rifle was usually used while laying down, safety behind a bunker, not like this. Chris took his time examining the boy's built. Not too short or tall. Being lean but not skinny, he had a good, strong shape for a good soldier. Although he had a perfect built, Chris still wondered how those arms could bare such high recoil. Was the boy insane? He was using that AM as if he was shooting .22 or something smaller.

Concrete blocks scattered into pieces, one by one without any failure.

The boy seemed unhappy somehow while dropping his gun down. His hands under shooting gloves shook a bit from tiresome. Without thinking, Chris approached the younger man, patting his shoulder to stop him from another shot. The boy stopped, resting an earmuff on his neck before turning back to a newcomer. Then Chris saw his eyes. They were hazel, mixing with shades of amber, clear and sharp. The most straightforward eyes he had ever seen in his life. This kid got beautiful eyes.

Chris could tell everything through those orbs. His hands were shaking with the recoil. He was confusing. He was stubborn. Yet, he was talented. He was great. He was perfect for the team.

"Is there anything I could do for you, sir?"

His thick brows were knitted cautiously. Chris smiled back at him before release his shoulder, stepping back a bit so the boy would have his space.

"It's nothing. Sorry for disturbing you," he answered, "Just take another shot, you're good at it."

The boy blinked. In curiosity, his hazel eyes glanced around as an observation; good skill for a sniper. He frowned once more then shook his head a bit before he covered his ears with an earmuff, picking his gun up to the position again.

Two more perfect shots. Chris looked at the profile of 'the man who never missed the target' in his hands.

" **Piers Nivans!"**

Chris called out with his sharp officer-tone voice. Piers startled, facing around then saluted in such panic, the way too much for Chris to suppress his smile.

"Not bad," he commented.

"Uh… Yes, sir?" Piers blinked again in confusion, asking, "Well… urm… is there anything I can help, sir?"

Chris chuckled as an answer. No matter how good he was, Piers was just a kid for him. The obedient one, if he didn't get it wrong.

"So you are Piers Nivans, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long have you used that rifle?"

"Urm… It's been a while, sir."

That was impressive. Chris looked down to the boy's arms next to his torso. How could they bare that Anti-Material rifle to begin with? He had no idea.

"You're good."

Piers looked at him like he had heard something wrong. 'Unbelievable' was written on his face.

"I know this is not a proper thing to ask, but excuse me," the kid frowned again, "How did you know me, sir?"

"I've been watching you for a while. I haven't introduced myself, huh?" Chris smiled back in response, "I'm Chris Redfield, from the B.S.A.A."

Piers almost shocked. Chris swore he saw a hint of pink shades appeared on the boy's ears. He took that as a good sign.

"Do you have any interest to join my team, Nivans?"

Piers seemed like he was out of breath, those shades went down to his cheeks this time.

 

* * *

 

 

Chris always thought he should be proud of himself; he really got eyes for a good fresh bloods. Every newbie he got was perfect for his team, flawless indeed. However, his eyes were too good sometimes… especially this time.

Piers Nivans was too good. His profile, his skills, his abilities, everything was the best. His new ace had everything Chris could think of… maybe too much as a boy he was, to be specific. Chris never thought that Piers would be this stubborn. He seemed like a quiet, responsible, obedient guy who'd do anything the officer told him to do, yet, he had his own way to control things -- the way that _'Kamikaze'_ thing was usually included. Chris' job was to take care of everyone under him, and Piers' way of actions always sent shivers down his spines.

Chris didn't want to imagine what that kid would have done if he hadn't stopped him on the field. The ace was still young, being so careful but also very, _very_ reckless at the same time. Luckily, even with those stubborn eyes on, Piers was smart enough to listen. He was a quick learner and experience would help him grow. He'd be able to take care of himself someday, and when that day came, Chris believed it'd be the strongest team he ever had.

Unfortunately, Piers was too good in the way Chris never wanted him to be when it came to something called _paperwork_.

Chris always felt like he was going to be insane every time he had to deal with this situation. He was born to live outside, on the field, in the war, anywhere but behind the desk full of documents. He tried to avoid this duty by letting others do it instead, but Command wouldn't let him go that easily. They had an argument because of this topic for years… That was before Piers Nivans joined the team.

There was a knock at the door. Then the ace came in the room with another lot of paperwork.

"What the hell---" Chris was going to be insane for real. Where did those papers come from? Did Command know how many trees were cut down into these? "C'mon, Nivans. You're kidding me?"

"No, sir." Piers frowned, aw, a moody kid. "Command asked me to send you these reports. They need them before dusk."

Chris groaned in protest, "I supposed that a cup of coffee isn't inhibited here, right?"

Piers raised his brow while placing all new reports on the desk. Goddamnit. Chris always felt strange when those hazel orbs glared at him as if he was a mind-reader.

"Not until this one is finished, sir."

"Just one cigarette won't---"

"After these are done, sir."

Leaning against his chair, Chris rolled his eyes exhaustedly. This kid was a machine or what? He was able to run away only in the first two days, claiming that he needed some caffeine to concentrate. After that? Well, Piers never let him leave the room again until all the work was done.

The ace stood back a bit but didn't leave. What was he doing, pressuring him? Man, this kid reminded him of a well-trained K-9 dog.

"Nivans."

"Yes, sir?"

"Get some rest. You don't have to stand there and wait for me. I'm not going anywhere."

"It's alright, sir," Piers didn't waste a second to respond, "I have to send Command those reports for you after all."

Piers' facial expression didn't change a bit, as serious as he ever was. Gosh… Did he do the right thing having this boy in the team? Piers Nivans really was born to be a soldier; no break, no excuse, no mercy. His whine would never work because it was just a whine, not an order. Chris was sure his blood was also military green instead of red for God's sake. Command would love this kid as if he was their long lost son.

The legendary Chris Redfield was defeated by his own ace… What a joke, but it was a fact. When they were out of the field, he couldn't win Pier's stubbornness at all. Perhaps it was because of straightforward eyes that never met straight right into his again when they had no mission to do.

Piers was like a straight black line that would break but would never bend, or he should be navy green? Whatever. But why would he avoid his eyes?

He should have already known the answer… Chris' heart skipped a beat, just only a beat.

The B.S.A.A. captain sighed, wiping his thought away while looking back to his work. A cup of coffee or a cigarette would help but they could not compare to fresh air and sunlight outside. Now he missed them, all of them, any of them. Just one of them was fine for now before he would be drained out like a dying old tree.

Suddenly, a cup of coffee was placed in front of him.

There was a click sound when a plate touched the wooden desk, right after a nice smell of coffee. A bitter one but his favourite one either. Chris looked up, seeing his ace with his serious face again, standing back to his position.

The one who imprisoned him was sure his lifesaver.

There was still no compare to freedom, or sunlight, or fresh air, but it was the first time Chris thought this wasn't that bad. The captain had no idea where the boy got how he liked his coffee: black, one cube of sugar. Such bitter taste mixed with a bit sense of sweet, just like Piers.

The unbending line that bent for him.

Their eyes met. Ah, his navy green line frowned again as usual. Those full lips curved down the way people called grumpy or moody, but they rather made Chris thought of a little boy. Then his boy looked away to the floor. He took a sip. There was nothing on that well-cleaned floor after all. What was so good with that floor?

"Thanks, Piers."

No more throbbing heart, he had to say it. Chris put the cup down and grinned, staring at his soldier's flushed cheeks. Piers seemed like he was going to choke, before the corners of his lips unintentionally varied some degrees up to a smile Chris had never seen. Then he nodded as an answer, hiding that attractive smile away from the officer's sight.

Chris sighed, getting back to work.

Maybe someday he'd be able to see it again. He wanted to see more; his eyes, his smile, his expression that was shown only for him… His heart skipped another beat. Well, maybe that _someday_ was this weekend, or tomorrow, or this evening… This evening sounded good enough, tough.

This evening. It was decided.

 

"Piers."

"Y-- Yes, sir?"

"After I finish all this stuff, let's go get a drink."

 

He really wanted to see more.

Everything.


End file.
